


Advantage

by sister_coyote



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-16
Updated: 2007-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_coyote/pseuds/sister_coyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once they are here, he is no longer hesitant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advantage

Once they are here, stretched out on the inn's bed, his hands spread wide across her thighs and his tongue parting her folds, he is no longer hesitant. She twines her fingers through his hair and holds him there anyway, for the feel of the strands between her fingers, for the way it will make it easier for him to live with this tomorrow. And for all his trepidation before, he is skillful. Her breath catches in the back of her throat when his tongue strokes over her clit, and he lingers there, slow thoughtful lapping like a big feline, as the muscles in her legs draw up tight to bend her knees around him.

She has never been good at lying still. She rocks her hips against his mouth, props herself up on her elbow to watch him—far more interesting than the unadorned boards of the room's ceiling. His hair bunches between her fingers. His eyes are closed, intent, his eyelashes—the same fair color as his hair—surprisingly delicate; none of the rest of him is delicate. Then his tongue rasps over her again, and she loses track of her thoughts and her head rolls back on her neck as she cries, "Oh, gods, Basch," and then, because she wants it and she knows he needs it, "more, just there—don't stop."

"_I_—_we_ _cannot_," _he_ _had_ _said_, _a_ _little_ _desperately_, _when_ _she_ _first_ _suggested_ _it_. _He_ _sounded_ _like_ _a_ _trapped_ _animal_, _and_ _looked_ _a_ _little_ _like_ _one_, _too_—_his_ _eyes_ _startled_ _in_ _a_ _way_ _she_ _had_ _not_ _expected_, _and_ _yet_ _that_ _was_ _not_ _unappealing_. "_Princess_—"

"_Because_ _you_ _do_ _not_ _want_ _it_," _she_ _asked_, "_or_ _because_ _you_ _feel_ _it_ _inappropriate_?"

_He_ _looked_ _away_, _the_ _lamplight_ _slanting_ _over_ _the_ _planes_ _of_ _his_ _face_, _his_ _cheekbone_, _his_ _jaw_. "_Of_ _course_ _I_ _want_ _it_," _he_ _said_, _low_, "_but_ _I_ _could_ _not_ _take_ _advantage_—"

_She_ _felt_ _a_ _flare_ _of_ _annoyance_. "_You_ _could_ _hardly_ _be_ _said_ _to_ _be_ _taking_ _advantage_ _when_ _it_ _is_ I _who_ _am_ _suggesting_ _this_," _she_ _said_. _She_ _touched_ _his_ _cheek_. "_Trust_ _me_ _that_ _I_ _know_ _what_ _I_ _want_."

She pulls him down against her by the hair and arches her hips, because she knows it makes it easier for him if she is the one in control, if there is no hint that it might be him, taking advantage of the princess with a lost kingdom and broken throne. And it is none of that: but she cannot stop being what she is, any more than he can stop being what he is. So they make do.

Her thumb brushes against his scar, and he makes a stifled noise against her flesh and closes his mouth around her and sucks, which drives all thought from her mind—all thought but heat and wet and the sword-calluses of his hands on the tops of her thighs, which are shaking, which shake slick and his mouth moves and she comes apart, finally, her muscles uncoiling. She falls back shakily, as he rises up on his knees—her hand still in his hair, sliding to the nape of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss, that she can taste herself on his mouth.

Her hand closes around him, and the look he gives her is surprised and conflicted, and she wonders whether he expected—but she does not want to think of that now, or anything. "Do not argue," she says, in tones that brook no contradiction, and though he is many times larger than her she uses her shoulder to nudge him over onto his back. He goes without protest, watching her, eager and expectant and concerned. He does not argue, and she is gratified to see the flex of his thighs as he stretches his legs out and lets her keep control as she bends her head over him.


End file.
